By Nipun Khatri
I.
I’ve seen artworks of complete honesty
by men who mastered forgery.
Witnessed lies that were too ethical to fail
and an integrity that failed to convince.
Somewhere in this turmoil,
life halts and stays.
Murder can be honest,
might have more conscience
than advertisement any day.
II.
It is possible that you spend ages of togetherness
and then talk for the first time.
Love doesn’t always meet fate—
these constellations are beyond.
Stars don’t always align.
But when it does—
From what I know of safe-keeping,
a lifetime falls short to care for even one.
III.
In care beyond own
lies the eternity of mine,
and in this ideated misery
there’s every single tear that shed for someone else—
for it becomes raindrop of hope.
Lies will always be lies, though,
she taught before I got hold of it.
And in all my honesty,
I’ve said a few lies.